Cato's Perspective
by PrincessMaleficent
Summary: So this is a Clato story, and hope you(if anyone's actually reading this) like it, it has some fake Glato. Read to find out!
1. Chapter 1

**So...this is my first [posted] fanfiction, and I hope that somebody reads this. Gracias.**

When I wake, I am filled with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Today is the day of the Reaping. Today is the day when Esmeralda Silver will come, at exactly eleven-thirty PM, call the name of the boy tribute, and I will volunteer. There may be other volunteers, but after the Reaping, there will be the pre-Games. In District 2, if there is more than one volunteer, and there usually is, they go into the Justice Building, where they will fight with their choice of weapons. These fights will continue until either the Victor has made them all surrender, or, if they will not surrender, when they die. I plan to volunteer, because I've been lifting weights since I was seven, and training with spears since I was four. I turned seventeen last week, and that's when I finally decided. I was going to volunteer. It's almost the last year I can, anyway, so might as well.

As I put my feet on the floor, Mari walks into my room, rubbing her eyes. "Cato-she pauses as a huge yawn stretches her mouth-why do you want to volunteer?" My eyes widen. She wasn't supposed to know about this. I told Sage and that was it. "Mari, it's fine," I tell her, and pat her head. "I'll win. Then we can live in the Victor's Village with your friend-what was her name?" I try to console her, but toddlers prove to be difficult to console. "But I don't want to live in the Village, I want you to stay home!" she wails. She'll wake up the whole house at this rate. "Mari, do you want to watch a Games?" I ask her. She nods, and I take her to the media room, setting her up with the earthquake year. She likes that one because she likes to look at the tributes swimming. She wishes we had a pool, like they do at the best house in the Victor's Village, the one Peter, the victor from year one lives in. He won his Games at fifteen years old, so he's now about ninety years old. But he has a mental disorder now, one so bad, once a few kids jumped his fence to try to learn how to swim, and he shot them, calling them mutts. His daughter and son live with him, though, so once they cleaned out his secret stash of weapons(because heaven knows a senile old man should not have weapons), he was perfectly fine.

When I get back to my room, Sage is sitting on my bed with her arms crossed. I sigh inwardly and say, "Sage, I know what you're going to say, I-" she cuts me off. "Cato, if you go to the Games and die, I won't be a twin anymore, and you know Dad will fall apart completely."

"Sage, you've told me. And I'm going to win, so don't worry."

"Cato, I won't be a twin anymore. No more matching tie and dress if we both don't have dates to the Formal, no more reading each other's minds from across the room, and you'll leave me to watch the Games with Mari. Just Mari. No more Mari Sandwich, no more protecting each other from the bullies." She's on her feet now, eyes flashing. "And there will be no more guy in the house to keep Dad from eating himself to death every time he sees Mom with another guy!" I'm wondering why she's as tall as me, till I look down. "Oh, what time is it?" I ask, seeing that she is already dressed in heels, a dress, and makeup. "It's ten till we leave, Cato," she spits at me. "Wear your green tie."

In the car, Sage glares at me, while Mari, in the front seat, sings along to a song on the radio. Finally, we're in the square, and I straighten my tie. "Camera faces, everyone," my dad says, pulling into an open space and opening his door. We all walk to the lines of people getting their blood taken, and stand in the appropriate lines for our ages. I cut in line next to a few of my friends. "Hey, Cato!" says Eric, punching my shoulder. "Who do you think'll volunteer this year?" speculates Vic. "Maybe you should, Vic," I joke. He smiles. "Maybe I will." Inwardly, I say, Not likely.

After I smudge my blood on a piece of paper, I see Mari going off with my dad, skipping and singing a nursery rhyme. "Come on," Eric says, leading us to the congregation of twelve-to eighteen-year-olds. We stand in silence, playing a virtual card game on a device of Eric's, waiting for Esmeralda. And finally, she steps up to the microphone, and Eric is forced to put it away. "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" trills Esmeralda. She's wearing a puffy gown completely covered in sparkle. "That actually hurts my eyes a little," whispers Vic. I smile. "Me too." The mayor comes up now, says an extremely long speech in which I complain to Eric and Vic about how hot it is, why do we have to wear tuxedoes, this is ridiculous, my tie is choking me, et cetera. Finally, it's time. Esmeralda steps up to the microphone-I wonder how she even walks in that thing-and says, "Ladies first!" crosses to the glass ball on the right, and chooses a name. "Clove Taylor!" Esmeralda calls, and she-Clove-walks up on the stage. But when Esmeralda asks for volunteers, there are none, and Clove smiles. It almost makes me laugh to think it, but Clove's smile looks like an evil gerbil. She's so cute, but her smile looks like she knows just how to kill you, and is going to do it very, very slowly. I've no sooner thought the thought when Esmeralda is asking for volunteers for a smallish boy, he might be thirteen or so, and I feel myself surging forward, the crowd waiting for more volunteers, but there are none. This must be the first time since before I was born that there's only been one volunteer for the boys. It's happened for the girls in my memory, but the pool of boy volunteers is always more than one. I shrug and say bye to the boy, who looks relieved. Well. He did look small. "What's your name, handsome?" asks Esmeralda. "Oh, it's Cato," I answer. "Cato Hadley." "What a nice voice you have, Cato!" Esmeralda gushes, all the victors say a piece, and then we're ushered into the Justice Building. No volunteer fights this year.


	2. Chapter 2

In the Justice Building, I'm visited by my family, who hug me and assure me that I can win, if I can just get a spear. "And besides, you'll probably be allies with Clove, and she's the best knife thrower in the training center!" Mari pipes up, smiling. "Yeah, Mari," I say, ruffling her fine blond hair. "Clove and I can take the arena down." Sage refuses to look at me as she says, "Cato, you're going to die. It's not about how talented you are. I have a bad feeling. This year's victor-this year's victor won't be a 2. And I'm afraid that you'll get one of those horrible, torturous deaths, where the tribute begs for release." She bites the back of her hand, a stress reflex. "Sage, I'll win, and then we'll be the richest people in District 12," I tell her. "I'm going to win. Don't worry. You'll still be a twin." She crosses her arms. "If you don't win, I'll kill you, Cato." I grin. "I'll keep that in mind."

The next person to visit me is not unexpected, but a nice surprise. Vic and Eric barge in, yelling my name. "Cato! Cato, we just talked to Clove!"

"Yeah, she's a total cutie!"

"One of you's going to die anyway, why not get some with her?"

"Totally. You know, she doesn't have any family that came to see her, only friends!"

"You have to win by the way. If you don't, we'll kill you."

"Yeah." Then they both give me a hug. "Guys...did you seriously just talk to her?" Vic winks at me. "She thought you were cute, too!" I groan. "Don't talk to girls for me, please. She probably thinks I have a mental disorder now." Eric raises an eyebrow. "Didn't we just tell you she thought you were cute?" I roll my eyes. "Yeah, because she totally would have told you that." they both nod emphatically. "She did! Even asked if you were single!"

"Dude, she did not ask if he was single."

"Dude? Nobody has used that word in, like, a hundred years."

"Well, like, nobody's used like in, like, a hundred years either, Mister Wise Guy." Eric elbows Vic in the ribs, and it turns into an almost-fistfight, which I have to break up. "Look, I'll win, okay? Then you guys can come to my house instead of having to hang around the park."

"Hey, personally, I like the park." Then the door opens, and there's a Peacekeeper telling them that their time is up. "Hang in there, okay?" Vic says, slapping me on the shoulder. I nod, suddenly unable to speak.

I have no more visitors, so I have to listen to Esmeralda prattle on about what a good time we'll have in the Capitol while I wait for Clove to emerge from her room. "Oh yes, you two will have the best stylist in the nation, well except for President Snow of course, but all he wears is tuxedoes! Why on earth would he need a stylist? It's the tributes and victors who need stylists, in my opinion, because you are the ones with the least style, coming from the _Districts, _and all," Esmeralda says, pronouncing the word Districts in a tone that suggests it's a swear word. I try to tune her out, but it's not easy, as she happens to be wearing the most garish outfit I've ever seen. Finally, the last of Clove's visitors leave-she seems to have a lot of friends-and she walks toward us, a suppressed smile on her face. "So...when do we get on the train?" she asks. Esmeralda checks a tiny gold watch. "Right now, actually!" she says brightly.

We get in a car, and are ferried over to the train station, where we wave good-bye to the cameras. When we get inside the train, there's a slight jolt-the train starting up, I guess-and then you can see District Two speeding away as we move past the suburbs and into the country. "Cato, aren't you going to eat something?" I hear Clove say. I realize that I've been standing by the window for thirty minutes and unclench my grip on the sill, massaging my fingers. "Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I will." I pick up a slice of pizza and take a bite. "So...we've got a lot of time, what do you want to do?" she asks. "Well, first, I want to change," I say, looking down at the stuffy formal clothes I'm still wearing. Clove, I notice, is dressed in a very short black dress and black high heels. "Yeah, me too, I feel like I'm going to flash someone, dressed in this," she says, grimacing down at the plunging neckline on her dress. My cheeks flush slightly, and I look away. "Oh, are we a chivalrous type?" she teases, advancing on me. "Well, maybe it's a bit embarrassing when girls wear dresses with their chests falling out," I say, trying to stare her down. She gives that same evil-gerbil grin. "Hmm, well, I'll try not to make you uncomfortable, Cato," she says, and winks at me.

In my compartment, I choose a pair of blue pants and a white cotton shirt. Clove is in the TV room on the couch, flipping through an impressive collection of movies. When she sees me, she pats the couch right next to her, and I sit. "What kinds of movies do you like, Cato?" she asks, scrolling through the horror section. "Oh, well, I like the movies that are from books," I say, immediately regretting the words. I've never told anyone that I like books. "Wait...so do you like Percy Jackson?" Clove asks me, her eyes lighting up. "Oh my gosh! You've read those?" I ask. She gives me a spontaneous hug. "I've never met a fanboy! I've read them all! Mortal Instruments, Divergent, Harry Potter...I think that's it...hmm..." she purses her lips and her eyebrows come together. "Oh, wow, me too! Which is your favorite?" She gives me a look. "Cato, a favorite? Well, why don't I just pick which arm I want to keep!" I laugh. "My thoughts exactly. Harry Potter marathon?" She nods.


End file.
